


SHIELD’s Second Little Surprise: Chapter 2 - "I Didn't Know That"

by SHIELDAgentMD



Series: SHIELD's Little Surprise - Jemma! [2]
Category: Age regression - Fandom, Agents of SHIELD - Fandom
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Kid Jemma Simmons, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHIELDAgentMD/pseuds/SHIELDAgentMD
Summary: Skye struggles with changes in her routines, while an adorable little Jemma shares more of her impressive knowledge.  She also lands herself in a bit of trouble for the first time, and learns that the team is perhaps kinder than she could have imagined.
Relationships: Bobbi Morse & Jemma Simmons, Lance Hunter & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons, Melinda May & Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: SHIELD's Little Surprise - Jemma! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/619936
Comments: 26
Kudos: 74





	SHIELD’s Second Little Surprise: Chapter 2 - "I Didn't Know That"

**Author's Note:**

> Well everyone, I know I must sound like a broken record but... I'M SO SORRY for the horribly long delay in posting! Pretty sad that it takes a pandemic to give me the time and inspiration to write again.
> 
> I do still have many ideas for this story, and hope to post a bit more often, though times are crazy so I can't promise anything. For now, please do enjoy this installment of SHIELD's greatest genius turned child prodigy. :)
> 
> (PS. Are you all also reeling from last night's AWESOME Time Loop episode?! Congrats to Elizabeth Henstridge for her incredible directing debut!! )

**Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D**

**SHIELD’s Second Little Surprise!**

**Chapter 2 – “I Didn’t Know That”**

This is the second chapter in a spin-off series of stories that takes place following the conclusion of my original ‘S.H.I.E.L.D’s Little Surprise’ series (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4966825#main). These stories are meant to be fun, sweet, thought-provoking and heart-warming. They *may* or may not contain scenes of corporal discipline (spanking), possibly of a minor child. This is *not* a ‘condonement’ of spanking children in any way, and any such scene will be depicted in a very loving, non-abusive manner. If this may still be a trigger for you, I encourage you not to read this series.

This is a fanfic based upon the incredible television series, Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Every character referred to is directly from the show/Marvel Universe, and I hold NO claim to the characters or the plotlines of the show that many of my stories are based on. Direct references or information from the show will be depicted in italics. 

I *highly* recommend watching the first 2.5-3 seasons of episodes before reading these stories, as many references to events in the episodes will be made, and therefore, better understood. Equally important is to read my first SHIELD’s Little Surprise series, which sets up the entire concept of this series, and will be referenced frequently. **ALSO** , this chapter includes the one-off I wrote previously to test the waters for this new series. **ALSO AGAIN** , I am terribly sorry for the unreasonably long wait for this installment! Please forgive me, and know that I am indeed still around.

 **WARNING** : These stories will contain spoilers from the show, up until mid-Season 3. Enjoy!

Summary: Skye struggles with changes in her routines, while an adorable little Jemma shares more of her impressive knowledge and lands herself in a bit of trouble for the first time.

**Chapter 2 – “I Didn’t Know That”**

“What?? Nooooo…” Skye cries, tears immediately springing to her eyes. She promptly flops herself down on the floor in the dining room and sobs. “No, no, no, no, noooo!”

May blinks as her small daughter falls to pieces before her eyes. She sets down the milk carton she had been about to pour into Skye’s bowl of cereal and exchanges an alarmed glance with Coulson. The two are suddenly registering just what a huge mistake they have made.

No one had thought to prep the youngster for the big change that would take place today. Skye, being absolutely accustomed to attending school chaperoned by either Bobbi or Jemma, really could have used a bit of warning that starting today, she would no longer be accompanied by either.

For rather obvious reasons, Jemma is no longer available, suddenly being only six years-old herself. And as little Jemma has only been with the team for two days, is remarkably academically-advanced, and there are only a few months left in the school year, they want to allow her some time to settle in and get to know everyone before she too begins school in the fall. Having to spare the two agents-turned-children and a chaperone would leave the primary SHIELD team very short-staffed… something that May, Coulson and Bobbi didn’t really consider until this morning, given everything else that was going on.

“Sweetie…” Coulson begins, kneeling down next to his daughter. He gently rubs her arm. “It will be okay. It’s just a new adventure…”

“NO!” she shouts, pushing his hand away in frustration. “I want Aunt Bobbi to come wif me! Or Jemma! I want Jemma back! I want Jemma back right NOW,” she adds, and bursts into wails of despair. Her demand made, she then lays down in full-blown tantrum mode, kicking and pounding on the floor.

The two agents exchange a disheartened look. The moment they realized that a change had to be made this morning, they knew that Skye would not react well. It will be a big adjustment for the little girl to go to school with an agent who is not necessarily part of the ‘immediate family’. They made a conscious choice of an agent whom they could trust, and whom Skye had at least interacted with a bit. Piper hadn’t been thrilled with the idea, but May bribed her by telling her that if she agreed to accompany Skye for a while, May would become her personal mentor and begin to bring her along as a shadow on her own field assignments. Every agent wishing to advance knows that training directly under Agent Melinda May is a huge honor and a boon to their career. Piper couldn’t pass up such an opportunity in the end.

May rubs her temples and sighs. “Skye… get back up here and eat breakfast.”

“NO!” is the immediate reply, from a foolishly brave little girl who doesn’t miss a beat in her tantrum.

The youngster doesn’t see her mother’s lips go very thin and also misses May stepping over to Coulson. “If she doesn’t calm herself down, she’s going to earn a tanned behind from me. I do not do tantrums,” she mutters through clenched teeth.

Sensing that his precious baby is ‘in danger’, Coulson quickly speaks up. “You know,” he whispers, “I feel a bit like this is our fault. We didn’t prepare her for this. And we know she doesn’t handle changes in routine well.”

Melinda deflates slowly. “Fair enough. So… solve?” she mutters back.

Coulson grimaces as Skye gives an extra loud shriek and shrugs. “Well… maybe we could keep her home today to let her get used to the idea. She can join in Jemma’s science assessment, and maybe spend a bit of quality time with Piper. She’d be better prepared for tomorrow.”

Both agents mull this over as they watch the little girl continue to flail around. Finally May says, “I don’t like that idea. I don’t want to reward her for this fit she’s throwing. No child of mine is going to get their way by throwing a tantrum.” She follows this stern pronouncement by adding, “Her school schedule is already so erratic, given our travels. She needs to go to school.”

Coulson nods slowly. They continue to watch as Skye finally wears herself out, and her flails gradually decrease until she’s simply lying still on the rug, crying. The director father, who is also feeling a bit despondent, nods to Melinda and holds up a hand as if to say, “I’ve got this”.

Coulson kneels next to his dramatic daughter. “Hey there, angel eyes… come here and chat with me for a minute,” he says softly. 

In response to her father’s gentle tone, Skye turns to look up at him through watery, anguished eyes. Phil smiles and nods, reaching out a hand. A tiny one hesitantly accepts it, and is helped up. Father leads daughter over to the couch and pulls the youngster into his lap.

“Skye, sweetie…” he starts carefully, cuddling her close. He glances over at May to find her rolling her eyes at the coddling with her arms crossed. He sighs.

“Are you scared of going to school without Bobbi or Jemma?”

Skye sobs again and sniffles. “Nooo,” she whines, causing May to flinch again. “I want Jemma back! I miss her soooo much, Daddy,” she cries pitifully, effectively breaking Coulson’s heart.

As the Director tries to formulate a response to this, Skye goes on. “Now her’s gone… and now new Jemma is stealing Aunt Bobbi away from me, too!” The little girl curls into a ball and cries into Coulson’s chest.

Both Coulson and May blink. They exchange a look of understanding, May’s features softening a bit.

“Oh sweetie, no,” Coulson begins, rubbing her back. “No one could ever take Aunt Bobbi from you. You are her ‘munchkin’. She loves you.”

Hiccoughs ensue. “But… but ever since new Jemma got here, Aunt Bobbi is always wif her, and never wif me!”

No one can deny that there is some truth to this. In the couple of days since Jemma regressed, Agent Bobbi Morse has been taking her role as primary caretaker quite seriously. That has unintentionally, but sadly, left little time or attention for Skye.

With this acknowledgement, the heartstrings of a certain doting father are pulled taut. He hugs Skye close to him and says, “sometimes it takes us a little while to welcome someone new, sweetie. Before you know it, Aunt Bobbi will be able to spend more quality time with you again.

Before Skye can argue or whine further, he goes on. “In the meantime, guess what. *I* am going to take you to school today.”

A dark-haired little head shoots up fast, and Coulson barely avoids receiving a bloody nose.

“Really?!” comes the excited squeal.

As Coulson nods happily, his counterpart’s jaw drops slightly. The stern agent-mother uncrosses her arms and stands up straighter, her eyebrows furrowing.

Sensing the disapproval, Phil hastens to amend, “Now this is just a special, one-time occurrence, Skye. After today, you will be going to school with Piper. Do you understand?”

Now hopping off her father’s lap and jumping up and down in glee, the little girl nods vigorously. “Uh-huh!”

Ignoring the smirk on Melinda’s face, Coulson strokes his daughter’s cheek with a smile. “Okay then. Come and eat your breakfast.”

May shakes her head as she turns to make herself a cup of strong tea. Phil tries to tune out the mutters from his co-parent that include, “pushover” and “wrapped around her little finger”…

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Once Phil and Skye are off to school and Jemma has also breakfasted, Bobbi leads her to see Fitz, for her scheduled science assessment. They head for the conference room. Nearly there, they find the tech genius wandering down the corridor from the opposite direction, working out something on his phone. 

“Hey Fitz. We’re just coming to see you,” Bobbi states, as she and Jemma approach him.

“Oh, hey,” he states, closing the program on his phone and turning around. “Good morning,” he says kindly, with a slightly strained smile at the little girl.

A polite nod is given in return, but Jemma doesn’t make eye contact.

Leo notices the little girl staring curiously at his phone. “Oh… yeah. You haven’t seen much of cellular technology, have you? Here.” He unlocks and offers the phone over to the bemused child. “It’s quite brilliant. I have some games on here, look.” He pulls up a gem-matching game and hands it over. 

Jemma smiles and takes the phone, turning it over in her hands. “How do I…”

“Oh, you can touch the screen,” he assures her, and models this by swapping two gems to make a matching line. “You can play that for a bit, while Bobbi and I… have a little chat,” he says pointedly, glancing back up at the tall agent.

Morse nods, and gently rubs Jemma’s back. “Okay honey, why don’t you go on in and play with the phone for a few minutes. Fitz will be in soon, all right?”

Jemma nods, her finger sliding lightly across the screen, a look of utter fascination on her face. She almost bumps right into the doorframe as she steps into the conference room, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the gadget in her hand.

The two agents share a chuckle, then Fitz gets right to the issue at hand. “So, her Maths assessment yesterday. I wanted to fill you in on how it went…”

And so, Leo describes the session… how Jemma was extremely reluctant to offer up any answers at first, but once Skye was out of the room it became abundantly clear just how bright and advanced the youngster is. He then explains what happened at Jemma’s first mistake.

“She freaked out. She ran and put herself in the corner and began reciting multiplication tables. She was shaking and on the verge of tears. Then, when I approached to reassure her, she… she begged me not to… to hurt her.” This recollection actually stings Leo’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “As if I ever would,” he mutters.

Bobbi, on the other hand, looks incensed. “Wow. You know… she wouldn’t have said that unless someone in her past… *her* very recent past,” she amends, feeling a headache coming on at this bizarre version of time travel, “… had been hurting her. Someone taught her to expect pain as punishment for making mistakes in her learning??” Bobbi sighs heavily and makes a sudden twirling motion with her wrist, before realizing that she doesn’t have her batons to maneuver through her anger.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” agrees Fitz. He then proceeds to explain how he cheered Jemma back up with some encouragement and small treats. Hearing of the little girl’s reaction to her first taste of marshmallows brings a soft smile to Bobbi’s face.

“Thank you for letting me know, Fitz. I’ll pass this info along to Andrew and we can discuss what to do with it from there.”

The two agents suddenly hear a soft ‘clink’ and both turn to glance into the conference room. There, looking very deep in thought, Jemma is examining Fitz’ cell phone, which is in pieces on the table in front of her.

Agent Morse blinks and enters the room. “Jemma Simmons,” she begins in a scolding voice. “Did Fitz say that you could take his phone apart?”

The agents can see the youngster gulp before she shakes her head. Jemma slowly wraps her arms around herself, looking very nervous.

Fitz is quick to jump to her defense. “Hey… that’s all right,” he declares, unable to bear the anguish on his tiny friend’s face. “Jemma is a scientist… no doubt,” he carefully amends. “Scientists have a deep, innate need to investigate new materials and concepts. And I *did* encourage her to explore the phone, after all.”

Morse tries to bite back a smile, but fails. She can tell now that Fitz is feeling highly protective of the little girl. After what Bobbi’s just heard, she can’t blame him.

“All right. Just make sure that you ask next time, little scientist. Okay?”

Jemma can’t help but grin in relief as she nods. Pleasantly surprised not to be in trouble, she also loves being referred to as a scientist.

Bobbi moves to the table and kneels beside Jemma. “Okay, honey. Have fun, be good and dazzle Fitz with your amazing knowledge,” she whispers, with a little tickle to the child’s side. “Maybe you should start by ‘exploring’ how to put this phone back together,” she suggests with a smirk.

Jemma bites her lip sheepishly and nods. “Yes, Miss.” 

Morse grins. “Good girl. I’ll be in the training room if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll come get you here in about an hour.”

And with that, Bobbi leaves the two brainiacs to discuss all things science. Fitz learns that Jemma is well beyond learning about states of matter, the parts and functions of atoms, molecules and elements; and life cycles of various species. The six year-old also has a foundation of knowledge in plant and animal biology and classification; human anatomy, chemistry and even astronomy. 

It is abundantly clear, once again, that little Jemma is a child prodigy. Her mind is remarkably sharp and her thought processes are exceedingly advanced for her age. This six year-old’s scientific prowess is easily at a high school level, if not beyond in some areas.

As Fitz ponders this, he has a sudden thought. Jemma is quite well-versed in several advanced subjects. What about the simpler childhood ones?

“Wonderful work,” he praises, as Jemma finishes filling in an entire Periodic Table of Elements from memory. He smiles, and passes along a few mini marshmallows, much to Jemma’s delight.

“Now, Jemma. Tell me… what do you know about dinosaurs?”

Jemma blinks at the sudden shift in topic. She squirms slightly for a moment, then straightens back up and says confidently, “Dinosaurs ruled the Earth for approximately 135 million years. They were descended from reptiles, and thus were mostly cold-blooded, and laid eggs. There were 3 main periods in which they lived: the Triassic Period, which was 230 million years ago, next was the Jurassic Period, and finally, the Cretaceous Period, which lasted until about 65 million years ago. In the end, dinosaurs all died in a cataclysmic event. Perhaps a meteor hit the Earth, or the climate changed suddenly. People aren’t really sure.”

Fitz grins. He is impressed, of course, even though he too had this knowledge at her age. “That’s all correct, excellent. So… which dinosaur is your favorite?”

Jemma freezes, staring up at Fitz. He sees her think quickly before saying, “well, technically all birds are dinosaurs, so my favorite dinosaur is an owl.”

Fitz grins. “Ozzie Owl?” he asks jokingly, referring to the mascot of the Sheffield soccer team.

Jemma giggles and shakes her head.

Leo nods thoughtfully and pulls up a picture on his reassembled cell phone. “So then, since you like birds, do you know what this dinosaur is called?”

Jemma looks at the picture, and seems to freeze. Her mouth slightly ajar, the color drains slightly from her face. As Fitz sees her eyes start to water, he realizes… this is the first question that she hasn’t been able to answer.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, leaning down to rest his chin on his hands on the table, in an effort to be as unintimidating as possible. “It’s all right if you don’t know.”

Jemma doesn’t seem to agree though. A tear falls down her cheek and she hugs her arms around herself protectively again.

Heart twinging at this reaction, Fitz is quick to move on. “This, dear one, is called a pterodactyl. That’s a funny word, isn’t it? ‘Tear-o-dack-til’.”

Jemma nods and repeats it quietly. “It’s Greek,” she whispers with a sniffle. She sits up again, perking up a bit at being able to offer knowledge.

“Is it, really? I didn’t know that,” Fitz responds.

This elicits a proud smile from the little girl, which gives Leo an idea…

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Once the session is up, free time has been earned. While Fitz and Morse suspected that Jemma might like to watch a film or play a game, the youngster surprised them both by choosing to peruse the library at the back of the lab. She chooses a rather advanced book on insects to study, and curls up with it on the couch in the rec room. The clever child stays in that spot until lunchtime, when she must be prompted more than once to put the book down and eat.

After lunch, Jemma enjoys a bit of time up on the roof with Mack and Bobbi, where they play a simplified version of soccer, a force field enacted around the roof to keep the ball from flying off. The little girl seems unsure about playing, and often ducks when the ball comes even gently toward her. After about 20 minutes though, Hunter joins them on top of the base and gets Jemma to smile lightly by calling out made-up plays and jumping in to ‘help’ Jemma until she finally scores a goal.

After about an hour of such activity everyone, including the youngster, is winded and tired. As soon as Mack declares the match a “tie”, and Bobbi suggests a rest, Jemma looks eagerly up at the tall agent and asks, “may I read again, please?”

Having not made other specific plans, and really needing to get some work done herself, all Bobbi can reply is, “sure”.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

As Jemma immerses herself back into the insect book, Leo shares his idea with Hunter, who is immediately on board. The idea is put into action quickly in a clever attempt to model acceptance of lack of knowledge for the little girl who seemed overly sensitive about it. An “I didn’t know that” volley begins between Fitz and Hunter while Bobbi goes to shower after her workouts.

“Did you know that there are over 300 different species of octopus, and that they have three hearts?”

“No way,” Hunter replies, looking genuinely surprised. “No, I didn’t know that. That’s interesting. Three full hearts just stuffed inside then?”

“Yeah,” Fitz confirms, as he paces just behind the couch where the child prodigy is reading. “They also have excellent eyesight and are highly intelligent.”

“Huh. Learn something new everyday,” Hunter says pointedly in Jemma’s direction.

The men pause for a moment, during which a page is nonchalantly turned in the insect encyclopedia.

Then…

“Did you know that in the mid-1800s in England, people didn’t say ‘cheese’ when their photo was taken?”

Fitz grins bemusedly. “Huh, is that so? What did they say then?”

“Prunes.”

“Ah. Wait… what? Prunes??”

A supercilious smirk crosses Hunter’s face. “Yep.”

“But… that would give them a rather odd look in photographs, wouldn’t it?”

Hunter sips his beer and shrugs. “It was deemed unsophisticated to smile in pictures. So…”

“Huh. I did not know that.” A shake of the head… followed by an eager, “let’s try it. You n me.”

“What?”

Leo pulls out his phone and readies the camera for a selfie. “A picture, with us saying ‘prunes’!”

A strange look is thrown his way, but as Lance remembers that Jemma is supposed to be learning some social skills from this encounter, he holds in a sigh and downs another gulp of beer. “Yeah, all right then.”

“Hey Jemma… you want to get in on this picture with us?”

Another page in the book turns. “Um… no, thank you.”

“All right then. 1… 2… 3. Pruuuuunes.” Click.

Though she expressed no interest in joining in, Jemma can’t help but pause her reading and peek over the back of the sofa at the goofy expressions on the men’s faces. And try as she might, the youngster also can’t help the giggle she quickly stifles in the couch cushion.

Fitz reviews the photo and proudly declares, “yeah, that’ll be my new profile picture, that will.”

A chuckle by Hunter is followed by more friendly, yet bizarre facts.

“Did you know that a blue whale’s heart weighs about a ton?”

“Did you know that Albert Einstein’s name is an anagram for “ten elite brains”?”

“Did *you* know that Michelangelo once wrote a poem about how much he detested painting the Sistine Chapel?”

Each question was followed up by some version of, “no, I didn’t know that”, or “hey, cool bit of information, thanks mate!” or, “no way”. And though Jemma sighed once or twice, it was at least apparent that she was still taking in the conversation.

After about 15 minutes though, Hunter makes the mistake of trying to include the little girl. “Hey Jemma, do you have any interesting tidbits for us?”

Without missing a beat, lil Jemma looks up at Hunter, whom she seems to be starting to feel slightly comfortable around. She says quietly, but with just a touch of playful sass, “did you know that I am trying to read?”

And with that poignant mic drop, the two agents exchange a surprised but amused look. “You cheeky little monkey,” Hunter teases, reaching down to gently tickle the child’s neck. The agents then apologize and finally allow the youngster some quiet.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**A couple hours later…**

As quiet as a mouse… a tiny mouse wearing tiny slippers on a carpeted floor even, little Jemma finally leaves her book on the couch and wanders into the doorway of the kitchen. Silently leaning against the door frame, she watches Bobbi and Hunter as they prepare dinner.

Hunter is grilling burgers on the stove while Bobbi slices carrots julienne-style for a salad. Every 30 seconds or so Hunter tries to distract Bobbi so that he can reach around and steal a piece of carrot from the cutting board. He isn’t especially fond of carrots; he’s doing it only to get a rise out of Morse… and she knows it.

“Hunter!” she scolds, playfully smacking his hand away. “Keep this up and there won’t be any carrots left for dinner.”

Lance scoffs. “And what a terrible travesty that would be,” he ‘laments’. Turning, he catches sight of Jemma standing shyly in the doorway and silently waves her over, gesturing to the cutting board. He covertly mouths to the little girl, ‘c’mon… it’s fun!’

Jemma bites her lip to stifle a giggle and shakes her head timidly, her wavy brown locks swinging side to side. It’s only her third day here with these people and while they have been kind to her, she hasn’t worked out what is okay and what is ‘dangerous’ yet. She isn’t quite ready to test it.

Hunter gestures again encouragingly. ‘It’s easy… watch’, he mouths. Then he taps Bobbi’s left shoulder and dives to her right for a carrot. The experienced agent isn’t fooled however. As soon as she feels the tap on her shoulder she grabs a wooden spoon out of the nearby vase and spins in the opposite direction. As Hunter snatches up another piece of carrot Bobbi plants a playful swat to her lover’s backside.

“Ow!” he whines in surprise as the small carrot in his hand goes flying.

Bobbi chuckles and shakes the spoon at him. “Keep it up… I dare you!” 

Hunter rubs his backside dramatically, and looks back over at Jemma. “That’s spousal abuse. I have a witness.”

At the sound of a quiet giggle Bobbi looks up and spots Jemma. “Oh… hello, sweetheart. Come on in here,” she prompts gently, quickly setting down the spoon.

The tiny version of the accomplished biochemist bites her lip again and slowly enters. She glances at the food being prepared and quietly asks, “may I help?”

Morse smiles warmly and nods. “Of course you can, honey. Come here. Let’s get you washed up.” She pulls a stool over to the sink and quietly watches as the youngster meticulously washes her hands. She then hands Jemma a towel and lifts her up to sit on the counter. “How about you tear up the lettuce for me?” she offers.

Jemma nods, pleased and watches carefully as Morse demonstrates. Once the head of lettuce is handed to her, the little girl takes great care to make the pieces exactly the same size as Bobbi’s. Bobbi smiles softly at the little perfectionist, and her grin only grows when she hears another little voice call excitedly out from the doorway. 

“Auntie, Uncle!” Skye shouts, before running over. Bobbi sets down the knife she’s been using to cut up a cucumber and turns just in time to be pounced on. 

Laughing, Morse catches Skye up in her arms and hugs her tight. She then pulls back slightly to kiss her niece’s little cheeks. “Hey there, munchkin! How was school? How many Dojo points did you get today?” she asks, as is tradition.

“Good. Eleven!” Skye responds proudly. At Hunter’s subtle gesture, Skye then takes the opportunity to reach out and steal a cucumber slice from the cutting board. She quickly stuffs it in her mouth, then giggles at the scandalized look on Bobbi’s face.

“I… what… you, too??” Morse asks, pretending to be upset. “You little thief!” she teases, giving her little niece several playful light swats on her jeans-covered bottom. Skye just giggles and squirms as she reaches out and gives Hunter a high-five.

Morse shakes her head and gives Jemma a little wink. She then catches Hunter out of the corner of her eye, trying to encourage the sweet, quiet youngster to steal food as well and she sighs. “Hunter, cut it out. Jemma is the only one I can trust in the kitchen right now.” With that, she glances at the bowl of torn-up lettuce and nods in approval. “Okay sweetheart, great job,” she praises with a soft smile. Morse gently lifts the little one off the counter and sets her down.

Before she’s even touched the ground however, Jemma asks, “what else may I do?”

Bobbi blinks, somewhat taken aback by the youngster’s eagerness to help… then she remembers, ‘of course, this is Jemma Simmons’. It seems that no matter her age, a strong desire to please others is simply ingrained in her ward.

“Oh… well, could you help set the table for me, honey?” At Jemma’s eager nod Morse starts handing her plates, bowls, utensils and glasses. 

Bobbi thwarts Skye’s next playful attempt to steal a carrot and shoos the youngster out of the kitchen area. She also asks Hunter to go gather everyone for dinner, so that he’ll stop encouraging the antics.

Lance agrees, planting a kiss on Bobbi’s cheek before heading out to wrangle the rest of the team. As Skye heads into the dining area she watches Jemma set the table with a slight frown on her face. “Hey… you’re not doing it right,” the six year-old informs the newcomer.

“Skye,” Bobbi warns quietly, in a reproving tone.

“But her’s not doing it right,” Skye whines, reaching up to the table. “The glasses go on the other side,” she states, moving the grown-ups’ wine glasses to the right of their plates.

Upon seeing the disappointed and abashed expression on Jemma’s little face, Bobbi sighs. “Skye honey, she didn’t do it wrong. There are lots of ways to properly set a table,” she explains patiently, grabbing condiments from the fridge.

But Skye doesn’t appreciate changes in the routines she has become familiar with. The familiarity and consistency help her feel secure in her place here. “No… that’s not how we do it!” She frowns again and moves to fix the rest of the glasses. In her haste to set it all ‘right’ however, Skye moves a glass a bit too close to the edge of the table and it falls to the floor with a crash, shattering into dozens of shards.

Jemma gasps and takes several quick steps backwards, away from the broken glass. Skye does the same, but then has a very different reaction. She lets out a scared sob and squats down into a tiny ball, with her hands clamped tightly over her ears, as if she expects to be screamed at. “I’n sorry… I’n sorry!” the distraught little girl starts saying over and over.

Morse blinks in surprise, wondering where on Earth Skye’s fear is coming from. She looks to Jemma and asks gently, “are you okay?” When Jemma nods, Bobbi quickly moves over to Skye and kneels down beside her.

Tears are falling down the little girl’s cheeks as if she sprung a serious internal leak. Bobbi gently strokes Skye’s hair before prying the youngster’s hands from her ears. “Skye, munchkin… it’s okay, shhh. Are you hurt? Let me see,” she coos, prompting Skye to stand back up so she can check her over.

Skye shakes her head in response, still crying hard. She looks up into her auntie’s eyes and says desperately, “I’n sorry… I didn’t mean it… it was a accident!”

Bobbi’s heart sinks as she realizes that there must be a reason for this fear. This must have happened before at some point in Skye’s life with traumatic consequences from those in charge of the little girl at the time. What had they done? Had they hit her? Sent her back to the orphanage? Just for breaking something? Had both the sweet children currently in her life known abuse??

While Morse ponders this, Jemma has spotted a small broom and dustpan in the corner of the room and goes silently to retrieve it. Determined to be useful, she silently returns to the mess of glass on the floor. The child is very familiar and skilled at not drawing attention to herself, but Bobbi glances up when she hears a tinkle of glass and sees Jemma attempting to sweep up. Picking Skye up and rubbing her back reassuringly, Bobbi looks to Jemma and says, “oh no, no sweetie. I’ll get that. You stay far away from the glass, all right?”

That said, Bobbi carries Skye over to a nearby chair and sits down, cuddling the trembling youngster close. “Skye, baby… I know it was just an accident. You’re not in trouble, munchkin. It’s okay…”

Jemma pauses, but when Morse turns her attention back to Skye, the tiny girl quietly resumes the sweeping.

In the midst of comforting Skye, Bobbi once again spots Jemma’s efforts to clean up and frowns. “Jemma… I said no. Thank you for trying to clean up honey, but I don’t want you near that broken glass. Now move away.”

Bobbi sees the little girl swallow hard, then barely hears her as Jemma murmurs, “I’m not a baby. I can do it.”

Morse sighs and shakes her head. “I know you’re not a baby sweetheart, but cleaning up broken glass is dangerous. Even for grown-ups. And… you are not to argue with me. Bring that broom and dustpan over here, right now,” she states sternly, still stroking Skye’s hair.

As Jemma walks over dejectedly, May enters the room, looking alarmed at the sound of her daughter crying. “Skye? Bǎo bei, what’s wrong?” she asks, approaching Bobbi. “Is she hurt?”

“No, no,” Morse assures May. Bobbi then points to the floor right next to her and looks sternly at little Jemma until the youngster has set down the broom and dustpan there. “No, she’s okay.” May pulls another chair over and reaches out to rub Skye’s back while Bobbi explains what had happened.

“… then the glass tipped and fell, shattering,” Bobbi says quietly, then shrugs and whispers, “and Skye got very afraid and upset for some reason.”

May frowns, looking quite concerned and reaches out for her daughter. 

“Okay munchkin,” Morse says softly, kissing the top of Skye’s head. “Go see Mommy.” She gently hands the youngster over to May who cuddles her close at once. Bobbi’s gaze snaps to the other side of the table as again, much to her disbelief, she hears a tinkling of glass. 

“Jemma Anne Simmons!” she scolds loudly, peering under the table. 

The six year-old brunette gasps quietly, then freezes, two larger pieces of glass held in her small, bare hands.

With a quiet noise of frustration Morse hops up and grabs a nearby trash can, carrying it over to her little ward. “Jemma… place those in here, very carefully.”

With almost unbelievable precision and care, Jemma slowly lowers the pieces of glass into the garbage can.

The moment that is done, Bobbi sets the can aside and scoops up Jemma. “We’re going to be a little late for dinner,” she tells May. “Go ahead and start without us.” And with the feather-light little girl in her arms, Bobbi walks Jemma straight back to their room. As she walks, she says into her comms, “hey guys, a glass fell and broke in the dining room, and I need to have a little talk with Jemma. Would someone mind…?”

“Of course,” reply two voices, which Bobbi believes belong to both Coulson and Hunter.

“Thanks.” 

Morse flicks the light on and shuts the door behind them as they enter the room that is hers, Hunter’s and currently Jemma’s. She gently sets the youngster down and immediately starts examining her for any cuts or shards of glass, turning her and very carefully running her fingers over the child’s baby soft skin.

Finally convinced that Jemma is unharmed, Bobbi turns the little girl back toward her and shakes a finger at her. “Young lady, I told you several times to stay away from that glass,” she scolds. Bobbi’s tone is serious but patient as she looks at the tiny little girl with her hands pressed nervously to her mouth. “Broken glass is very sharp and dangerous. You could have been cut. Especially using your bare hands.” At this, Morse gently pulls Jemma’s hands away from her face and examines them closely again, wanting to reassure herself that the youngster truly isn’t hurt.

Jemma swallows hard as she watches Bobbi examine her hands. “But… but I didn’t get cut. I was careful,” she states quietly.

Finally reassured, Morse rubs Jemma’s tiny hands in hers. “I know, honey. But I told you several times not to play with the glass and you disobeyed me, Jemma. That is not okay.”

The little girl’s eyes well up with moisture as she senses that she’s in trouble. “I-I wasn’t playing… I was cleaning. I’m a big girl,” she insists quietly.

Bobbi’s eyebrows furrow in concern… she’s worried about Jemma’s apparent need to be seen as a little adult. May had once told her that what with _having two PHD’s by the time she was 17_ , Jemma had never had much of a childhood. Morse is sure that being an only child and constantly surrounded by adults and/or much older peers had a lot to do with that as well. Morse sadly has yet to witness the youngster simply play or be silly, and it breaks her heart a bit.

Bobbi sits on the edge of the bed and brings Jemma in close, between her legs. She lifts the quiet child’s chin to get her to look up at her. “Jemma… listen to me, honey. You are mature, and responsible, yes,” she agrees. “But sweetheart… you *are* a little girl. And that’s okay. That’s all you need to be.”

Morse quickly shakes her head as Jemma frowns and opens her mouth to protest. “No… no, listen, little one. You are six years-old, Jemma. Right now, you have a couple of responsibilities: it is your job to play, to learn, to obey the grown-ups who take care of you, and yes, even to get into mischief and get into trouble sometimes. Those are your only jobs, okay? It is our job as grown-ups… mine and Hunter’s and Fitz’ and everyone’s… to take care of you and keep you safe. And you know what? We love our job! We want to do our job. We like taking care of you, and we want to. And, you need to let us… all right?”

While the child, who has always been praised for her intelligence, self-sufficiency and (sometimes stubborn) independence, has a rather hard time accepting this, she does appreciate that Bobbi is speaking to her in terms of ‘jobs’… just like a grown-up. She fidgets uncomfortably for a moment, prompting Morse to add, “I promise, that there will be lots of things that you’ll get to do all by yourself, but there will be other things that we will do for you or help you with. Okay?”

Jemma considers this, and finally nods dejectedly.

“Good girl,” Morse praises softly, stroking Jemma’s soft cheek. She then sighs heavily, as she knows what she has to do next. “Jemma… rule number one here is going to be that you do as you are told. I told you at least three times to step away from the glass, and you disobeyed me again and again. That will get you in trouble every time, little one,” she says regrettably.

Jemma hangs her head and gives a quiet sniffle at this. She hates being in trouble, always has. She was almost always a very obedient child, eager to earn praise and meet the expectations of those around her. 

Bobbi considers hard how to handle this. She knows that spanking Jemma as an adult always proved most effective, especially as it helped the young woman let go of any and all guilt of a misdeed and move on. Skye seems to do well with it too, emotionally traumatized much moreso by punishments such as time-outs, which feed into abandonment issues.

However, given Fitz’ description of her Math session with him, Bobbi isn’t sure that that would be the best route. It sounds strongly as if the youngster may have some abuse in her history. She decides to get a little more information first.

“Jemma, honey… I bet that you get in trouble sometimes back home in England, right?”

Looking sheepish, the small brunette bobs her head up and down.

“Yeah,” Bobbi sympathizes. “Everybody does sometimes.” Morse swallows and thinks about her next question. “When you have gotten in trouble, have you ever had a time-out before? Or a spanking?”

Jemma’s response to this surprises Bobbi perhaps more than anything else thus far. Trying unsuccessfully to stifle a quiet little sob, Jemma just nods matter-of-factly and moves to the outside of Bobbi’s right leg. Once there the six year-old timidly pulls up the back of her skirt and leans forward slightly. She seems to be trying to drape herself across Bobbi’s lap, but isn’t quite tall enough.

Morse’s heart catches in her throat and she just stares at her little ward. Her voice hoarse with emotion, she finally asks, “sweetheart, what… what are you doing?”

Jemma meets Bobbi’s eyes for just a second before hanging her head again. “Helping,” the little girl replies sadly, clearly resigned to her fate.

Morse feels a lump growing in her throat. “I… you… honey, please… don’t help. Please don’t. It… it just makes it harder,” Bobbi admits.

Jemma looks up at Bobbi and stares at the tear that is rolling down the agent’s cheek. Slowly, she lets go of her skirt, allowing it to fall back into place and smoothing it down in the back. “S-sorry,” the little girl murmurs, confused and sad.

Morse feels another few tears slide down her face and quickly wipes them away. She knew that Jemma had been spanked as a child, but for the little six year-old to already know the ‘routine’ of a spanking, and to be so accepting of it? It just wasn’t right.

And besides… “Little one, I didn’t necessarily mean that I was going to spank you, anyway. I was just wondering if you knew what…”

“But I disobeyed you!” Jemma suddenly declares, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. “I know that I must be punished, or I’ll never learn!”

Blinking in surprise, Bobbi stares at the little girl. Jemma’s face has turned pink and she looks utterly, utterly… frustrated somehow. 

A long pause follows as Bobbi’s mind races. What should she do? Finally, looking at the little girl who so desperately wants to be seen as a grown-up, Morse decides to treat her like one and simply ask.

“Jemma… how do you think I should punish you?”

The agent watches the youngster swallow hard and begin to tremble. She feels her determination start to diminish even before Jemma replies shakily, “a good thrashing”.

Exhaling as though punched in the chest, Morse shakes her head. Blue eyes close tight for a moment as bitter thoughts of justice for an innocent little girl wash through her mind. She finally manages to whisper, “that will never, ever happen here, with us. I hope you will learn to understand that, honey.”

Jemma bites her lip and wraps her arms tightly around herself again. Confusion can be felt from feet away.

With a clear of her throat, Bobbi speaks again. “I think… I think that I should show you our version of a spanking, little one. It is a lesson, to help change behavior that isn’t right, but honestly,” she admits quietly, “it’s not so bad. It just gets the punishment over and done with, so that you don’t need to feel bad anymore. All right?”

The bewildered child swallows again before whispering, “yes, Miss”. This quiet acceptance is almost too much to bear. Still, Morse has already decreed Jemma’s punishment… now she had to force herself to follow through quickly or she won’t at all. With a deep, shaky breath she lifts the little girl up and plants a quick kiss on her cheek before gently laying her across her lap.

As she herself raises Jemma’s skirt, she is struck again by the child’s behavior. The youngster isn’t squirming or pleading or resisting in any way. Bobbi hears only one small, scared sound from her little charge, and sees that Jemma’s feet in her tiny black flats are crossing and uncrossing nervously. A silent tear rolls down Bobbi’s face.

Morse rubs Jemma’s back comfortingly and forces herself to speak. “Okay Jemma… do you know why you’re in trouble, honey?”

Jemma’s adorable British lilt quavers as she responds, “y-yes, Miss. I-I disobeyed you, because you said to go away from the glass, and I didn’t. I was bad,” she adds sadly, in a practiced manner that again tugs at Bobbi’s heart.

Morse swallows hard again and shakes her head, giving the upturned little bottom across her knees a few love taps. “Oh… no, baby. You were not ‘bad’. You are a very, very good girl, Jemma. You just made a wrong choice… you were ‘naughty’ for a few minutes. But we are going to take care of that right now, and then everything will be okay again. All right?”

Little Jemma lets out a sniffle and one meager squirm, then nods her understanding.

“Good girl,” Morse praises again, then without further ado, lifts her hand and brings it down lightly onto the sky blue panties with tiny red hearts on them.

Jemma lets out a tiny squeak at the first swat, but quickly covers her mouth with her hand and otherwise stays perfectly still. Morse tries not to think of this unnatural response as she continues, noticing that after about four reasonable swats to the youngster’s vulnerable backside, the little girl’s body is tense and any cry that would escape her is instead stifled.

Morse shakes her head again. “Jemma, baby… if you need to wriggle or cry… you go right ahead, okay? I won’t be upset with you,” she promises gently.

It seemed that all the little girl needed was permission. At the next firm swat from Bobbi’s hand, Jemma yelps quietly. Two more swats later and the child squirms slightly, as if testing the waters. 

Thinking that they are really getting somewhere now, Bobbi goes on although she’d really rather stop. “Just three more, sweetheart,” she informs her well-behaved ward. “You are such a good girl.”

The youngster gives a sigh at the praise and squirms harder as she receives the final three firm swats to her small bum. By the last one, she is sniffling into her hands and her feet are doing tiny scissor kicks. 

Incredibly relieved to be done with the child’s chastisement, Bobbi gently rubs Jemma’s back and says, “all right, honey. All done. And all forgiven.”

After a moment of listening to Jemma’s sniffles subside, Bobbi helps the little girl up. She sets Jemma on her feet in order to adjust her hold, and the child meets her eyes briefly, seeming to study her. Before she can be pulled into a lap for some cuddles, Jemma turns and walks away, planting herself into the nearest corner. Again, the sweet little girl is showing evidence of an established routine of punishment.

Morse just looks at her for a moment. Jemma is so sweet-natured, and eager to please. How could she possibly get in trouble often enough to have this process down pat? How strict were her parents, exactly?

Bobbi considers letting Jemma stay in the corner for a bit, knowing that there can be comfort in familiarity. Finally though, as she sees the little girl’s hands balling into fists, presumably to prevent herself from rubbing her sore bottom, Morse decides against it. Her overall goal this time is not to punish, but to help allow Jemma to be the little girl that she is… that she needs to be.

“Jemma, sweetheart… come here,” she says softly.

The youngster turns around to find Bobbi still seated on the bed with her arms outstretched kindly toward her. She hesitantly leaves her corner and pads back over, but about three steps from Morse she suddenly stops and winces. “Ow,” the little girl whines, lifting her right foot off the ground.

Bobbi frowns and moves forward to meet her, scooping her up. “Hey honey, what’s wrong?”

Jemma bends her right leg back, but still can’t see the bottom of her shoe properly. “Something’s poking me,” she explains with a sniffle.

Morse blanches, afraid that the child may have gotten some glass imbedded in her after all. She moves back over to the bed and sits down, then says softly, “okay sweetie, I’m going to lay you down. I’m not going to spank you again, okay? But let’s check your shoes.” With that she lays the youngster gently across her knees again, Jemma’s upper body supported on the bed, and lifts her right foot back to examine it. 

Sure enough, she sees a small shimmer as light from the nearby lamp reflects off a small shard of glass stuck in the bottom of the little Mary Jane. Morse winces slightly herself and says, “okay love, I want you to tell me if it hurts at all when I take off your shoe, all right?”

Jemma nods and Bobbi feels her tense up again, apparently anticipating pain. Morse unbuckles and removes the little shoe very, very slowly and carefully, relieved when Jemma just states, “that’s better”. Bobbi peers inside the tiny shoe and sees that the glass is only poking through about a fraction of an inch. 

She peers closely at the bottom of Jemma’s foot, happy not to see any blood or any kind of puncture mark. Morse runs her fingertips up and down the bottom of the tiny foot, and much to her own delight, Jemma squirms and lets out a little giggle. 

“Ohhh, I’ve found one of your ticklish spots, have I?” Bobbi teases, continuing to gently tickle the child.

Morse makes a production of examining Jemma’s left foot as well, for another chance to tickle the youngster. She is rewarded for this with more quiet giggles and adorable squirms.

Finally, when she has run out of ‘excuses’ to tickle the child, Bobbi lifts little Jemma back up and into her arms. Jemma squirms, slightly uncertain about this, and Morse is further convinced that the little girl is completely unaccustomed to physical affection. She truly hopes that this is something that can be worked through, because Bobbi cherishes Jemma, always has, and physical affection is one of the main methods that Morse uses to show her love for someone.

For now, Jemma allows Bobbi to snuggle her for a minute or two. A couple times Bobbi catches the little girl looking longingly at the agent’s long blond tresses, as if fighting the urge to play with her hair. Morse feels especially hopeful when Jemma nuzzles into her neck briefly, though it could have just been the child adjusting.

After another quiet moment of cuddles Bobbi smiles and says softly, “so… what do you think? Was that just awful?”

Jemma doesn’t even need time to think before she shakes her head. “No, Miss. You… you’re very nice,” she admits, sounding a bit incredulous and relieved.

Relief pours through Morse as well. “Oh good! I’m glad you think so, Jemma.” She plants a light kiss on Jemma’s hair and adds quietly, “no one here wants to hurt you. Ever. We’re not like that, okay? Even if you earn a spanking, it’s not about ‘hurting’ you. It’s just a reminder, or correcting naughty behavior. But listen, sweetie…” Bobbi pulls away slightly to look into Jemma’s bright eyes. “If something we do ever does hurt your feelings, or makes you feel bad about yourself, I want you to let us know. All right? Because kids aren’t the only ones who make mistakes.”

Brown eyes search light blue for a moment, in seeming disbelief. Jemma nods slowly, while thinking that she won’t dare complain about anyone here. Though… *why* is this woman, all these people, being so nice?

When Jemma finally looks down again, Bobbi rubs her back gently and says, “okay, honey. Are you hungry? Ready for dinner now?”

Jemma nods and slides down off of Bobbi’s lap. She moves to her little shoes and goes to slip them on, but Morse quickly stops her. “No sweetheart. Not yet. We’re going to put them under a magnifying glass and make extra sure that there is no glass left before you wear them again, okay? You can help us if you’d like,” she adds, and grins as the little face of the future scientist brightens.

In the meantime, Morse prompts Jemma to wear her slippers and the youngster obeys. As Morse leads Jemma out of the room and down the corridor back to the dining room, she glances back to see the youngster rubbing her slightly sore bottom. Jemma immediately ceases, apparently afraid she’s been caught doing something wrong, but Bobbi just gives her a soft smile and whispers, “you are a very, very good girl”. The little girl can’t help but smile politely back. 

This new situation will clearly take a little time for six year-old Jemma Simmons to get used to. But as she is greeted enthusiastically by everyone already seated around the dining table, she decides that it may not be so bad after all.

**To be continued in Chapter 3…**


End file.
